It's Time To Put Our Hate To Bed
by slam a revolving door
Summary: [Oneshot] 'She looks up from her salad, and suddenly the Dean of Medicine is there.'


**title: **it's time to put our hate to bed 1/1  
**rating: **completelyharmless  
**characters/pairings: **cuddy/cameron friendship, hints of house/cameron, mentions of chase/cameron  
**author's note: **for **drunkendreams** who is a terrible enabler. This isn't one of my best pieces, but that's okay, because it was fun.  
**spoilers: **resignation, insensitive, act your age, half-wit, family ... lots of the recent ones, actually.  
**summary: **'She looks up from her salad, and suddenly the Dean of Medicine is there.'  
**disclaimer: **I do not own etc...

She looks up from her salad and suddenly the Dean of Medicine is there.

"Mind if I sit down?" Cuddy asks. Cameron doesn't answer, because Cuddy's already sitting down. That wasn't really a question, was it?

"Is something wrong with Libby?" she asks, although her pager hasn't gone off in over an hour. But the patients are the only thing that ties the two women together, and besides, they haven't talked since Cuddy was trying to convince her that she was going to get her heart broken. That was awkward then, and now, hanging between them, it's even more so.

"No," Cuddy replies, and the answer comes as no surprise to her.

"Oh," she says, looking back down at her wilting lettuce leaves. She jabs at them with her fork, all too aware of the older woman's appraising gaze on her. Looking up, Cameron meets Cuddy's stare. "Did you need me?" she asks boldly, remembering a distant time when Cuddy could brush her off just for standing by House.

Cuddy shrugs, an uncertain gesture that seems too vague to be really hers. "Heard about Foreman?" she says nonchalantly, as if discussing office politics is a hobby of hers. Cameron nods, laying her fork down. She tends to avoid the subject – she's got too many skeletons in that area.

"He doesn't want to turn into House," she says carefully, folding her hands on top of each other.

Cuddy inclines her head and brushes imaginary lint off her crimson top. "I told him there were worse things to turn into." She pauses, as though for thought. "Was I wrong?"

- - -

Wrong. It's such an ambiguous word, Cameron thinks. It was _wrong _of House to make them trust him. It was _wrong _of Wilson to turn House in. It was _wrong _of her to kiss House.

But in the end, could any of them help it?

- - -

"Would you want to?" she asks the Dean. After all, she gave House the licence to form his team, and she had known House for so long. Did she really expect House's fellows to come out sane?

Cuddy rests her chin on her hand thoughtfully, and Cameron is suddenly struck by how human she looks. She's always been used to thinking of Lisa Cuddy as the person who kept everything in order, and now she's seeing the _person _that Cuddy has always been. Somehow, it makes her wonder why they're so apathetic towards each other.

"No," Cuddy says finally. "But I was never offered a job under him."

She nods, but her thoughts are already drifting elsewhere. Was that what went wrong for her? Should she have taken the position somewhere else and never come to New Jersey? Should she be listening to the question Cuddy just asked her? What was the question again?

"Sorry, what was that?" she asks, shaking her head distractedly.

"Would you?" comes the question, and once again, Cameron's floundering in the deep end. It's like choosing to marry her husband, except so much less important, and so much more significant.

"I don't know," she replies, because that's the only answer she can manage at the moment. It's probably the only answer she'll ever be able to manage, but that doesn't matter for now, does it?

"No," Cuddy says musingly. "I don't expect you would."

They sit in silence for a moment, and Cameron is about to break the silence when her pager goes off. Plucking it from her pocket, she glances at it and stands up.

"I have to go," Cameron says, tossing her half-eaten salad in the bin. Doctors are one of the biggest sources of wasted food, she thinks. "House," she adds by way of explanation, and it's ironic, because he's her explanation for most things. Cuddy nods sympathetically, and for a moment, she can see that she understands. And … maybe she was wrong. The patients aren't the only thing that ties them together – House is.

As she slides out of her chair, Cuddy puts out a hand to stop her.

"Dr. Cameron," she starts. "I heard about Dr. Chase."

Cameron glances away, a flash of annoyance flooding through her. _Everyone's _heard about Dr. Chase, and everyone's unimpressed. She can empathise with that.

"And … I'm sorry," Cuddy finishes, and she can't help but raise her eyebrows in surprise. Glancing at the other woman, she smiles slightly.

"Yeah," Cameron replies, turning to go. "So am I."


End file.
